Take a walk in the hill’s beard of seeding grasses.
Insects rise up with an electric buzz like the cry
of an apartment call-button. I am not at home
in this body. Further down, near the lake,
bullfrogs twang their low strings. Raise my foot
over an inch of warm water and tadpoles
dash around so frantically I’m splashed. It’s crazy
out here. I cannot convey the action: life painted
on so thick the brushstrokes show. I wish
I could show you my way of seeing but as soon
as I get it down the moment’s past and I have become
a different person, the way unnamed dead become
the bright field. My eyes may seem like apertures, but
they’re beetles on which crawl tiny specks of light.
Authors of the article
Carolyn Capps teaches drawing at the University of Virginia and has recently exhibited work at the Chroma Gallery and The Bridge in Charlottesville, Virginia. She grew up in Black Mountain, North Carolina and earned her MFA from the University of Georgia. “We Are Not Our Work” is her first digital collection.
Lesley Wheeler’s poetry collections are The Receptionist and Other Tales; Heterotopia, winner of the Barrow Street Press Poetry Prize; and Heathen. Her poems and essays recently appeared or are forthcoming in Subtropics, Gettysburg Review, Rattle, and Poetry, and she blogs about poetry at www.lesleywheeler.org Wheeler is the Henry S. Fox Professor of English at Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia.